Four Parenting Styles
by voldybadass
Summary: After years and years of research, they narrowed the parenting styles into four groups: the authoritative, the authoritarian, the permissive and the negligent.


_Disclaimer: This was based upon a psychoanalytic research by Diana Baumrind. None of the characters presented are mine._

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**Negligent: Parents that give neither affection nor limits.**

* * *

Tom looked out his window, wondering not for the first time whereas his father might be. What he would be doing. Was he like his son? Capable of the things Tom was capable of? The boy sighed heavily, his voice being muffled by the sound of the rain pouring strongly outside. He stood up with a jump, passing his small bedroom impatiently, his hands behind his back.

He knew his father was a Tom Riddle, for Mrs. Cole told him when he grew up enough to start asking why he had to live there, but that was as far as Tom could tell. The boy had always imagined how it would be when he finally met his father. Would he be happy? Surprised? Happy _and_ surprised? Or would he shut Tom off?

The not knowing was the worst thing, most kids always said. To Tom, the worst thing was to know he was alone, his family did not care or did not know about him. _That_ was the worst.

But one day.

One day they would know about him. And the wondering would stop.

* * *

**Permissive: Parents that give much affection, but no limits.**

* * *

"Tommy, Jane said you sent a snake to attack her. Is that true?" The boy looked up from his book to stare at his father with big innocent eyes.

"I did nothing." He answered calmly. Tom sighed, sitting on the ground next to his son heavily.

"I, of course, told her it was impossible to domesticate snakes, and she seemed to believe me. However, we both know what you can do. So, I'll ask again. Did you send a snake to attack Jane?"

Tommy remained silent for a long moment, gazing at his open book without really reading the words.

"I did." The boy said, eventually. His head shot up when his father's mouth opened to reprimand him. "But it was her own fault! She said... She said..." Tom's voiced died, and he stared at his book again, shaking his head forcefully.

Tom passed his hand through the boy's hair affectionately.

"What did she say?" He asked in a gentle voice, looking at his son with furrowed eyebrows.

"Jane said you only took me out of the Orphanage because Grandma ordered you to." Tommy answered, his voice so low Tom had to lean closer in order to hear him.

A heavy silence followed, seeming to make the air in the bedroom harder to breath.

"I did- We did not- These are lies I-" Tom mumbled, unable to form a complete phrase. He breathed slowly, trying to form a coherent though. "Jane is lying. Of course I didn't bring you home because Grandma told me to. I brought you home because you're my son and I love you." He finally said. Tommy looked up to his father again, smiling. After another silence, the boy spoke.

"Will you ground me? For what I did to Jane?"

Tom swallowed hard, blinking repeatedly while looking at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"No. Not this time. But you know it was wrong, right?"

Tommy agreed shaking his head enthusiastically, and his father smiled.

* * *

**Authoritarian: Parents that give many limits, but no affection.**

* * *

"Thomas Riddle! I cannot believe you actually did that!" Tom yelled, his hands into fists. "How many times do I have to tell you not to hurt people that way?" He continued, slamming the door shut while he entered his son's room. The other was in the bed, trying to make himself as smaller as possible. "You will never, ever say those things to Anne again, am I clear?"

"Yes." Tom answered, his voice low. "Yes." He repeated more strongly. His father breathed in slowly. His face was reddened and he was visibly shaking..

"She is your mother, and you will respect her!" Tom said to him, his voice not so loud now.

"She is _not_ my mother! My mother was a witch and is dead!" The boy replied, his voice too raising while he stood up to face his father. Tom narrowed his eyes, the anger that was fading away coming back full force now.

"YOU WILL RESPECT HER AS YOUR FAMILY, BOY, OR SO GOD HELPS ME!" He yelled again, stepping closer to where his son stood still, watching him with wide eyes.

"I will not say those things to her anymore. I can promise that. I will respect her. I can promise that too. But I will never, _ever_, treat her as family, for she is n-" Tom was interrupted when his father hit him hard on the face, turning his head on the other direction with the impact of it.

A heavily silent followed the slap. There were tears in Tom's eyes as he stared at his father, his chin high.

The other looked at his son as if surprised with the red mark on his face. As if he did not believe he had done that.

"You will do what I say you will do. Because you're my son. Do. You. Understand?" Tom asked, spacing each word. A single tear fell from the boy's eyes when he shook his head affirmatively. "Good." His father completed, turning his back and leaving the room, his hands still into fists.

* * *

**Authoritative: Parents that give limits and affection in the same measure.**

* * *

"Happy Birthday, Tommy!" His father said, walking into his bedroom with a cupcake with a single candle in a hand and a little purple box in the other.

"Dad, it's midnight." The boy mumbled, yawning as he sat on his bed.

"Yes, I know how to look the time, believe it or not. However, this is not any midnight," The man replied, sitting on the edge of the other's bed, close tom him. "It's the first midnight where you are seventeen years old! You're now a grown man!" Tom was smiling as he stared at his son.

"Only on the magical world, dad." He answered, rolling his eyes but smiling as well.

"Oh, don't rain on my parade. Here, blow the candle." Tommy leaned closer, and was about to do as he was told when his father interrupted, taking the cupcake away for a moment. "Don't forget to make a wish!" He remembered, and his son shook his head, rolling his eyes again. He blew the candle, and his father cheered.

"Ok, now the gift." The boy said, reaching out for the purple box. His father laughed, holding it high, away from Tommy's hand.

"Why are you always so impatient? I have a little speech prepared!" His son groaned while he cleared his throat. "Tommy. Tom. Thomas. I know you think this is just another birthday, and it's not such a big deal to turn seventeen. But now, you're not only a child anymore, a student that can be excused from everything because they are still learning, still young. You now have to be responsible for your actions, for your choices. No more playing with snakes," At this, his father raised an eyebrow, and his son smiled small. "No more schemes to make Slytherin win the House Cup; no more pranks with the Gryffindor boys. Now, you are a man. Now, you have to worry about your future, your life, and how all these things will affect people near you. Now, you know that all you do have consequences be it good or bad. However, I believe I did raise you not only to be a great boy. But also to be a great man. And I am very proud of who you are now." He finally stopped, looking at his son with tears in his eyes. He leaned in and hugged the boy.

"You did raise me great, dad. Thank you for that." Tommy said, his voice low with emotion too.

"Alright, now, the gift." His father continued, cleaning his eyes with the back of his hand while giving the purple box to the other.

The boy palmed it, opening carefully. Inside, there was a single key. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking at his father in confusion.

"What-" Tommy started to say, but his father interrupted.

"How much do you like cars, son?"


End file.
